


A Grand Tournament

by TalonQueen



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angry Kylo Ren, Badass Rey, F/M, Swords
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-12-30 08:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18312038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalonQueen/pseuds/TalonQueen
Summary: A long time ago, in a medieval pseudo-Europe.Lady Organa and  Lord Snoke are both Feudal Lords presiding over their adjacent lands. Organa is a kind and benevolent ruler, but skirmishes with other kingdoms have left her armies small and Ill equipped. Meanwhile Snoke's burgeoning forces grow ever larger as he pushes his lands further outwards.An old tenuous pact set down by their forebears leaves the two at peace, for now. To show their Goodwill to each other, they have decided to host a grand tournament!Leia sends her best young knight, inexperienced but ruthless, an orphan named Rey. As well as Finn, a former footsoldier of Snoke's, and her Cavalry Captain, Poe Dameron.Snoke has sent his young protege, Ben Solo and his Knights of Ren, a brutal group of mysterious warriors.What may happen upon these tournament grounds? Will the pact between Lords hold true? Or will war break out, and send our young knights into full brutal conflict?





	1. A chance meeting

 

-

Dew covers everything. The grass, the bark of the trees, the pale skin of a young man, asleep in a small tent. You can smell dew in the air, it sets the world shimmering, in direct opposition with the gray fog that often accompanies it.

 

This young man lays in the dew and the fog, sleeping hard. He has travelled far, over river and hill, through mine and forest, and he has further to go still but he draws close to his final destination.

 

He opens his eyes, one at a time. And slowly sits up. His tent is small but the tanned leather has kept him mostly dry, an expensive luxury these days. His alabaster white skin stands in violent contrast to his raven black hair, wavy locks tucked securely behind his sizable ears. His hawk like nose would draw your attention most if it were not for his eyes. Their intensity is unmatched in a hundred miles, but their sharpness is betrayed by a small soft center, something inside him trying to claw out. You'd never see it though, nobody ever managed to look into his eyes for long enough, and if they did, they saw nothing at all afterwards. 

 

Like his hair, nearly all his possessions are black, as well as his horse. A massive charger that stands stoic and proud, both horse and master are formidable, and you can tell by looking at them. The boy stands and begins to pack his belongings silently. From a saddlebag he takes an apple and a chunk of cured, dried meat, placing them in the horse's and his own mouths respectively.

 

Now from all this one might assume anything about him. Assumptions are unsafe to make after all, he could be anyone's son, pursuing any career you could think of. That is until you laid eyes on the scabbard and sword strapped to the horse's saddle. Leather black as night, capped at both ends with silver polished to starlight, securely contain a claymore as wide and long as a grown man's arm. The crossguard is a dark metal, with glints of red in certain lights The handle is wrapped in the same black leather as the scabbard and affixed to the pommel is a raw, uncut Ruby; jagged, vicious, screaming bright blood red.

 

This is a weapon of war, it marks him as not just a footsoldier but a knight, a man trained to kill and conquer. It's sharp grievous silhouette mirrors his own, broad long and dangerous the both of them. Whosoever crosses his path, had best pray they do not cross his patience as well.

 

-

 

About a half mile down the path, nestled into the exposed roots of a great ancient oak is a young woman. She has no tent, no horse, and no sword.

 

She lays curled up, sound asleep, light snores echoing out of the small cave she had crawled into. Her skin is either tanned or dirty, it is difficult to tell, but it is most likely a mixture of the two. Her soft brown hair is tied back behind her head in a series of intricate knots, mostly for practical purposes rather than any kind of style choice. Her clothes are patchwork, a mix of farmer's garb and bits of boiled leather armor, a vambrace on her right forearm, a set of tassets around her waist, and a battered pauldron on her right shoulder.

 

Despite seeming like a horrible outfit and location for sleeping she nonetheless seems to be fast asleep. Leaning against the dirt and roots next to her, almost as if keeping guard, is an old halberd. The haft is an aged ashen gray maple and the blade is nicked and dull, not in the best condition but good enough to get by. 

 

She is awoken by the unfortunate sound of drunken laughter. She sits up quickly, her eyes open and darting around. Her round face is clenched into a grimace immediately, her fiery eyes staring out into the dim sunlight that filters into her hiding spot. A voice sounds out.

 

“Lass, we know you're in there! Come on out!” 

 

Her hand immediately grabs the halberd and she pops to her feet.

 

“We followed your tracks from the ruins, we know you're in there and we know you have something that belongs to us!”

 

“Yeah! You dirty rat thief!” a second man whines.

 

The girl rolls eyes and yells back out at the men.

 

“I'm not the thief here you are, and I'm not the one threatening a poor harmless girl all on her own.” 

 

The second man pipes up, “harmless? That's a laugh! You gave two of us quite a whopping with that polearm of yours the night before last.” Two other men groan in anger and agreement. The girl can't help but smile at the fond memory.

 

“I'll make you a deal!” She says, shifting her stance and looking down at her large backpack on the ground. “I toss what I borrowed out to you and you leave, and we never cross paths again.”

 

“Stole! You stole!”

 

“Recovered! It doesn't belong to you!” 

 

“We saw it first!”

 

“Do you want the deal or not!” she yells as loud as she can muster.

 

There is a brief moment of silence, and she thinks she hears light whispering, and then.

 

“Alright then, we accept the deal, just, hey who are you?”

 

The girl raises an eyebrow, what does he mean? Was someone else out there? As if to answer her question she hears the stomp of a hoof and a low whinny, nearly a growl. She knew they didn't have horse's, this was someone knew. 

 

“What's your business stranger? You'd best move along alright? No this is none of your business. No we don't, stop asking questions and just go before we have to make you go.” 

 

The girl is about to peek out and around the corner when she hears the hiss of steel and then a guttural cry. Her eyes go wide and all she hears for a brief moment is panicked yelling, the deep neighing of the horse, and the clash of steel. 

 

Just as quickly as it started though, it ended. She stands there, frozen solid, maybe whoever was out there didn't know she was in here. 

 

“It's safe to come out.”

She grips her weapon tight and peers out into the light. Sitting atop a massive black horse, amongst five dead men, is a boy who stares back at her intently, neither of them breaking eye contact.


	2. Awkward Introductions

Awkward Introductions

-

 

The young woman stares deep into this boy’s eyes, and he stares back. His gaze pierces deep down into her mind, so far that she feels she can’t move an inch. His eyes hold some concern, perhaps even some anxiety, but covering that all is a seething rage, a slowly subsiding bloodlust. It makes her shiver and grasp her halberd even tighter. His eyes glance down at her hands.

 

“I won’t hurt you, though it seems these men were about to, I dispatched them for you.” He gestures coldly at the five dead bodies strewn about the ground around him. They lay in contorted positions, cold death masks splayed across their faces. The girl quickly glances across them, quick kills all, not a cut out of place. She swallows and takes a step back.

 

“I promise.” He whispers, and her eyes flick back up to his. His rage is slowly falling away, his eyes softening. Still uncertain, and always cautious to trust, she plants herself in a stance and holds her halberd up threateningly. 

 

“Promises from a stranger mean nothing to me, give me your name and perhaps I will trust you.” She says, her voice as harsh and resolute as her pose. 

 

The boy straightens up in his seat.

 

“Very well, my name is Kylo Ren. Might I have the honor of your name as well? I do not fear you, but it does seem like the polite thing to do.”

 

“Rey.” She says, cold. Doesn’t fear her? How arrogant can he be, he may have dispatched 5 men from horseback but she could take him on an even field, she was certain.

 

“Rey? That name, it sounds familiar to me. Where do you hail from?” He pulls his horse a few steps back and relaxes his posture even more. Rey keeps her stance but slightly loosens her grip on her halberd.

 

“It is none of your business where I come from or where I go. I have had enough trouble with fellow travellers this journey,” she gestures to the bodies on the ground, “and I would prefer to go forward on my own. 

 

“Ah yes, the ruffians, they mentioned you had stolen something from them. Is that true?”

 

“What does it matter to you? Are you the law? I see no insignia designating you as such.”

 

Kylo shakes his head slowly.

 

“I represent no law but my lord’s and we are not on his lands. I merely ask out of curiosity, I have nothing against thieves.” There is a slight smirk along his lips as he talks. Rey clenches her jaw and furrows her brow before talking in what resembles a growl.

 

“I am no thief, what they had did not belong to them, and I need it far more than they did.” 

 

“Fair enough Dame Rey, I assume you are a Dame of course, given your stance and weaponry. Though it may be very little you have clearly been trained in the chivalric arts.” 

 

“You ask too many questions.”

 

“I am a curious man.”

 

“Too curious for my liking Sir Kylo.”

 

Kylo shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Oftentimes people paid deference upon meeting him based on intimidation alone. This girl however has stood her ground, and seemed nothing but mad the whole time without a hint of fear. He grips his reins in anger, and speaks with a sharpness in his voice.

 

“Perhaps we should part ways then, I supposed you would have paid me thanks for saving you from these louts but I see now that is not in your nature.”

 

“If I had asked for your assistance perhaps I would be more thankful but forgive me for not trusting a man who murders as quickly as you do.”

 

“You would not have killed them yourself if it had come to a fight?”

 

“I would have tried to talk my way out of it first, unlike you, and no I would not have, I find it easy enough to simply incapacitate. I suppose it's hard for a man as strong as you to have any kind of restraint.” Rey’s words are poison-laced and Kylo feels it very clearly. This girl is a grand test of his patience. He manages to hold himself back though, knowing that with her confidence and superior reach there is a good chance he would not come out on top if it came to a fight.

 

“Farewell then, perhaps we shall meet again someday.” Kylo mutters through gritted teeth as he turns his horse to slowly canter off down the path into the woods. 

 

Rey does not respond and simply keeps her halberd pointed at him as he moves slowly away, his eyes piercing hers the whole way. She does not let her guard down until he is too far too look back and he turns his eyes to the path ahead of him. 

 

Rey lets out a heavy sigh and drops to her knees, panting from the intensity of the moment. Beads of sweat dot her forehead, and her mouth is painfully dry. She stares after Kylo as he slowly disappears into the distance. She cannot deny that he was an angry dangerous fool, but there was also something else there. A fear perhaps? What could someone like that possibly be afraid of though? She looks around at the bodies in the road, and finds herself doubting that he could be afraid of anything.

-

Rey stands in a small clearing off the road. Her belongings set to the side, her sleeves are rolled up and her pieces of armor removed. She is absolutely covered in dirt and sweat, as she stares down at the five fresh graves dug into the ground in front of her. 

Rey digs through her pack quickly and pulls out a small vial of water. She sprinkles a small amount on each grave, whispering prayers as she goes. After she takes a step back and looks up at the setting sun. 

“I am no priest, but I hope these men, as mean as they were, find a good piece to go to.” As if in response, a light breeze tousles her hair and cools the sweat from her brow. She smiles slightly and begins to pack her equipment. 

 

“Damn that Kylo Ren, he made me lose a whole day of travel.” She stands and hoists her pack onto her shoulders, pieces of armor strapped back on and halberd in her hands. “I hope and pray that I never meet him again.” She mutters to herself as she sets off down the road, into the dark of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for Kudos and comments! I am having a lot of fun writing this!


	3. Returning Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one felt shorter because there was less dialog, but the next one will basically be ALL dialog so it makes up for it. Is still about the same length (in words) as the previous two chapters though. Enjoy!

Returning Home

-

 

Rey is on the road for two more full days of travel by the time she sees home peeking over the horizon. The crumbling parapets stare down at her, ominous ancient guardians of the castle that Lady Organa’s family has presided over for hundreds of years. Explosions of ivy reach up from the ground, painting the smooth stones a dark green. While not in ruins, the castle has seen its fair share of sieges in the past several years. Despite fighting off all attackers, there is never enough time to repair it completely. Right now, scaffolding covers the outer walls like a hive, workers scuttling about like insects in perfect sync.

 

Rey stops about a quarter mile out and stares at her home, the setting sun positioned perfectly behind the castle. She takes a deep breath and smiles, this was one of her favorite parts of coming home. The sun streams through the gaps in the stone, creating hundreds of piercing spears of light, a grand halo of warmth surrounds the whole place and Rey feels as if she is witnessing some kind of divine miracle. Rey watches for a few minutes before shaking herself loose from the sight, and continues to march towards the castle. 

 

Rey crosses the drawbridge into the castle, waving hello to workers and dodging around piles of construction materials. She makes her way across the courtyard and up the grand staircase to the door of the keep. Once inside she looks down the small room to see a woman seated on a humble oaken throne. The room has rather low arched ceilings for a throne room, and row upon row of banquet tables and benches fill the room. Rey smiles and begins to walk faster, her pack swinging on her back, a smile bursting onto her face. She jogs up the small set of stairs leading to the throne, where sits a woman who radiates courage and love like no other in the world. She smiles down at Rey, who drops to one knee, placing her halberd flat on the floor next to her.

 

“Leia er, my Lady, I have returned with the artifact you have sent me to recover.” She speaks with respect and courtesy but she wears an impish grin on her face.

 

“Your efforts are greatly appreciated, and I am happy to welcome you back home.” Leia says, with great grace. Her hair is done up in beautiful decorative fashion under a small simple silver crown, and she wears plain but gorgeous white robes which flow to the floor. Her and Rey look at each other meaningfully, and without a word, they both stand and embrace. It is a tight hug, born from being apart for several weeks. Leia steps back and grasps Rey’s hands in her own. “I trust you were safe the whole way, I do not see any injuries upon you?”

 

“I am not hurt but I do have much to tell you.” Rey says, but then glances at her stomach as it growls loudly. “Perhaps over supper?” She asks with a grin. Leia smiles and nods.

 

-

 

Kylo Ren Gallops his charger down a long and muddy road, through a small village up to a massive castle, looming atop a hill. Houses he passes quickly close their shutters and the village falls completely silent for several minutes after his passing. The dark limestone building rises high into the air above him, its walls imposing and free of any moss or ivy. The parapets are topped with brutal metal spikes, an excellent deterrent to anyone attempting to scale the walls. Kylo pulls his horse to a halt in front of the raised drawbridge, glancing down into the fifty foot pit surrounding the castle, wooden stakes hammered into the bottom. He looks up to the battlements and shouts.

 

“Sir Kylo Ren has returned from his time abroad, lower the bridge.” His voice echoes off the walls and carries off into the ever-dimming night. There is a cacophony of metal and wood from somewhere in the walls and the drawbridge slowly lowers itself to the ground, chains screeching and clunking. Kylo trots his horse across the solid planks and into the castle courtyard. Once inside he climbs down from the massive charger and absentmindedly hands the reins off to a cowering stable boy. He pulls the sword from the saddle and straps it about his waist, grabbing a small satchel as well before the horse is led away.

 

Kylo struts across the torchlit courtyard, squires and serfs all scamper out of his way and bow their heads slightly as he passes. He passes between two massive towers and into another smaller courtyard. Lining the two walls is a cadre of elite guards, dressed in dull grey armor with flowing red livery. He marches past them, stops at a massive wooden door, and waits for a moment. A small hatch slides back and two bloodshot eyes peer out at him, he glares back. There is a small chuckle and the hatch slides shut with a loud wooden clack. Kylo waits for a moment more, before the doors open before him. He steps into a massive room, bereft of anything resembling decoration except for massive red tapestries draped upon the wall. The air here is stale and heavy, almost as if he has stepped into some kind of tomb. 

 

Far from him, at the opposite end of the room is a massive obsidian throne. Cruel spikes jutting into the air, polished to a near mirror shine, it is the throne of a conqueror. Kylo begins to walk forward, the figure on the throne staring at him. It takes several moments for him to arrive at the base of the steps leading up to the throne, where he stays, he dare not ascend the steps. On the throne sits a man scarred by fire, his face pocked and melted in ways that make the stomach churn. His robes are a dull shimmering gold, his grown sits atop his bald head, blood red rubies studding its jagged golden shape. Kylo drops to one knee, eyes trained on the ground. He can feel his lord’s eyes burning into him, Kylo’s spine begins to itch and tingle, sweat beading on his shoulders. Finally, the decrepit king speaks,

 

“My most faithful knight returns, I have eagerly awaited your report from beyond the weald and wood.” His voice crawls out of his mouth like spiders from a nest, it sets Kylo’s teeth on edge. “You have permission to speak boy, tell me what you have learned.” 

 

“Thank you my lord.” Kylo swallows nervously and stands. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a map, unfurling it before him.


End file.
